Monday, July 9, 2012

3768. HABANERA TO THE COLUMNAR INCH

HABENERA TO THE 
COLUMNAR INCH
Sandpaper headings and the stucco'd old
cathedral, now standing a sentinel watch
for nothing on the borrowed edge of an ancient
humid avenue. The people are standing near
the light which won't work  -  sooty cars from
1966 are making the turn, taxi's headers on
their roofs. Cuban musicians are staggering
their delineations down Rampopa Boulevard,
while two soldiers are toying with a white-laced
girl. I listen in as she comments, in a very fast
tongue, that their 'rifles aren't large enough' to
do their 'paltry manhoods justice.' Be it all
as it may, that's what I think I understood.
-
The oasis behind glass, the flower-seller
with glass vases, soiled daisies sticking out
from an oil-based elixir : I realize where I am
but not how I ever arrived. Everything happens
so fast in an air-born world. From goons to
toy soldiers, a teddy-bear with a child attached
is flying through the air. Smoke at the end of
the block, the distant harbor everywhere.

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